Page 18 of Just One Summer with the Grumpy

I hadn’t told him in the text. How could I possibly explain in a way that wouldn’t get me fired in two seconds? This way, at least he could see it for himself.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I said carefully. “The bride asked the groom to meet her here and wanted us both to come along. Maybe she wanted witnesses.”

“Or emotional support,” he muttered. “She’s calling it off. This can’t be happening.”

“We get paid either way, right?” I said. “I mean, we’ve done our job. All the details have been taken care of. Surely the contract covers us in cases like this.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It does,” he said, “usually. But in this case, the groom must have had an inkling that his bride would run, because he insisted on adding a clause that he would only pay the full amount if everything went smoothly. If not, we would only receive a quarter of the fee. I authorized the change myself, thinking it worth the risk for such a lucrative account.”

Wow. He must have really believed this wedding would go through. That, or he’d been almost desperate to win this contract. I remembered his lecture back in New York about everything being perfect. It wasn’t the perfectionist in him or even the stern boss—it was the fact that our business literally depended on it. My decision to help Kamia had even greater implications than I’d assumed.

“Hello, everyone,” Kamia called from the path. She’d showered and styled her hair in loose, wind-blown waves. She wore an ankle-length sundress that rustled in the soft breeze and looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen her. “Thank you both for coming.”

Chase grumbled something under his breath. I doubted it was a polite greeting.

I checked my watch. “It’s five past. Marcus should arrive any second.”

“He won’t be here for another minute or two. Marcus doesn’t like me ordering him around, so he tries to show me who’s in charge. Yet another reason for this meeting.”

Chase put on his professional smile and cleared his throat. “Look, Kamia, I’m sorry to hear that your relationship has been strained since your arrival—”

“Since forever,” Kamia corrected. “I didn’t ask you here for your opinion, Mr. Everett. I only wanted you to see.”

“See what?”

“Kamia!” Marcus roared from the pathway, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the waterfall. The moment he saw us, he slowed, looking confused.

She turned and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Good to see you too, love. I’m glad to see you missed me.”

“My fiancée disappears all night and then I find out she’s with some foreign tourist,” he snapped, finally reaching her.

Kamia met his gaze firmly. There was a strain in her expression, though, that said this was harder for her than it looked. “You’re imagining the worst, but it wasn’t like that. I got drunk and spent the night sprawled across a lounge chair in a cabana.”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” he practically spat at her. “You two were inseparable yesterday. I have multiple reports of you throwing yourself at him. Photos, even. Then you’re gone all night, and I’m supposed to believe you just fell asleep and it’s all innocent?”

“Yes. You’re supposed to believe what I say when it’s the truth.”

His hand twitched, and I knew he was thinking about hitting her. Now I understood why she wanted us here—not as moral support or even witnesses, but as bodyguards. He wouldn’t dare hurt her as long as we were watching.

“Let’s go inside and talk about this,” he said, lowering his voice.

“You’re here to listen, not talk,” she said evenly. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I won’t be marrying you. In fact, I’m climbing on an airplane in about two hours, and I hope to never see you again. You, however, will attend our rehearsal dinner and assure our friends that we split amicably. You’ll ensure that they have a good time here and leave happy.”

Marcus looked positively purple. “You will not humiliate me in front of several dozen of the most powerful people in the world. You’ll go through with it if I have to drag you down the aisle.”

“The wedding oaths are voluntary,” I pointed out. “Do you really want her to say no in front of all those people? That would be far more embarrassing. She’s doing you a favor.”

His head snapped around, and he crossed over to me, his forefinger stabbing me in the collarbone. “How dare you insert yourself into this conversation, wedding planner. If you’d done your job and kept her from Hunka-Hunka-Latin Boy, none of this would have happened.”

Then Chase was there, standing between us. “Touch Daphne again, and you’ll regret it.” His voice was low and dangerous.

Marcus tried to sidestep him, still giving me a murderous look, but Chase remained solidly in his way.

“Your wedding planner was with her, Everett,” Marcus snapped. “She knew what was going on and didn’t say a word about it! I have witnesses. What kind of wedding planner enables an affair right out in the open? You’ll send her packing if you know what’s good for you.” The man looked like he would spit in my face if Chase weren’t there.

“Your relationship problems are not Daphne’s fault,” Chase said, his voice containing an edge of barely controlled anger. “Stand down now.”

“Stand down?” Marcus huffed. “Some help you are. My fiancée doesn’t know what she’s saying. Keep the arrangements as planned.” Marcus spun and stormed over to Kamia, who yelped as he grabbed her wrist and began to drag her toward the hotel.

---